Chapter 5: The Shredded Past
Helen laughed, a cold, dry sound that lacked any real amusement. She tossed the leather-bound ledger onto the edge of the desk, letting it slide open to reveal pages filled with jagged, agitated handwriting. Connor’s eyes scanned the exposed pages, recognizing his father’s frantic notes detailing suspicious financial transfers and missing property deeds. But as he reached out to grab the book, Helen casually pulled a silver lighter from her pocket, snapping the cap open with a sharp click that reverberated through the silent room.
"You think you can fight thirty years of legal groundwork with a guilty conscience?" Helen asked, bringing the flame dangerously close to the corner of the aged paper.
"Don't," Connor warned, taking a sharp step forward, his muscles tensing for a physical confrontation he knew he couldn't afford to lose.
Clara stepped up beside him, her hand sliding into his, providing a steady current of calm determination. "Go ahead and burn it, Helen. But destruction of evidence doesn't erase the digital paper trail Marcus left behind when he registered the fake notarization in the county database yesterday afternoon."
Helen’s hand froze mid-air. The lighter flame danced just inches from the edge of the first page. For a split second, the iron-clad composure in her eyes wavered, replaced by a flash of genuine panic that she quickly masked behind a renewed sneer.
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"You bluff poorly, Clara," Helen whispered, though the lighter snapped shut with a definitive click. She turned on her heel and strode toward the door. "Enjoy your last night under this roof."
She slipped out into the hallway, leaving the leather ledger behind on the desk. Connor rushed over and picked it up, flipping frantically to the back pages—only to find the final three leaves completely torn out.
